


Impartial observer

by The_Black_Cat



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Abimel, F/F, Idiots in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29120796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Black_Cat/pseuds/The_Black_Cat
Summary: Abigael has been acting strange lately and Maggie is determined to find out why.ORThe four times Maggie sees something very strange and the one time she sees something completely okay.
Relationships: Abigael Jameson-Caine/Mel Vera
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	1. Healing touch

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!
> 
> First of all, I want to thank Ash for being an awesome beta-reader and for talking to me until early morning. You're amazing! 
> 
> I'm currently battling a block and this is my attempt at writing myself out of it. Also, this has been started before season 3 began so I decided to finish it ignoring any new development. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Maggie liked to think that she was a perceptive person, especially when it came to her sisters. Even without her empath powers, which she sometimes sorely missed when dealing with an angry Mel or a closed-off Macy, she could tune in on her sisters’ feelings pretty easily. She could even tune in on Harry and Jordan a lot, an accomplishment she was very proud of.

The only person she met with regularly but couldn’t get a read on was Abigael. The witch-demon was always very careful about which emotions she showed and what she kept to herself, and it made Maggie crazy with curiosity. Everybody had emotions, some people were just better at hiding them. And as an empath—former, but still—she took her disability to decipher Abigael very seriously.

And so, when it became clear that Abigael would be sticking around after she lost her throne, Maggie decided to watch her very closely. And not because she didn’t trust her; lack of trust was Macy’s issue with Abigael, not Maggie’s. No, she wanted to observe and learn how to read the only witch-demon in existence.

So really, with all her attention on Abigael, who gradually took to spending more and more time with them, it wasn’t too much of a surprise when Maggie noticed something strange about the way the witch-demon acted.

The first strange occurrence she noticed didn’t seem that strange at first. She just got home from training with Jordan, happy like she always was after seeing him. She walked through the front door with her eyes trained on her phone, tapping out a reply to Jordan’s text. Only after she hit send did she lift her head to find Abigael and Mel in the kitchen, desperately trying and failing to keep what seemed to be a failed attempt at a potion inside of Mel’s little cauldron which was now letting out heavy, black smoke.

“I swear, if you blow up my kitchen, I’ll vanquish you!” Mel growled through gritted teeth. Her hand was outstretched with her fingers curled, and a frown of concentration was on her face. If Maggie was correct, Mel was trying to cool the cauldron down.

“Why don’t you berate me after we’ve dealt with this?” Abigael growled back. The cauldron let out the biggest cloud of smoke yet and its contents bubbled dangerously. Abigael let go of the towel she was holding and clamped her hands down over the top of the cauldron to keep the contents in.

“Heat of the moment is always better,” Mel bit back.

Before Abigael could reply, the cauldron let out a gurgle and suddenly, Abigael jerked away, hissing in pain and cursing like a British sailor. A strangely thick, yellowish-green substance crawled out of the cauldron slowly, over the edge and down the outside, sizzling and smoking as it went. Mel focused on freezing it, and she did, just before the substance could fall off the edge of the cauldron.

Maggie almost gasped when she noticed that the failed potion left visible scorch marks on the metal.

Abigael shoved her red and very burnt hands under a stream of cold water, letting out a loud, pained hiss at the contact. It must have been one very powerful potion if it managed to burn a (half)demon this badly. Without missing a beat, Mel went to grab an icepack from the freezer. She tore it open, spilt the ice onto a dishcloth, then she reached over for some herbs Maggie couldn’t recognise, put some onto the ice, wrapped it into a bundle and ground it together for a moment. The crunching of ice sounded menacing in the silence of the kitchen.

“I told you,” said Mel finally. She stood next to Abigael and yanked her hands from under the stream of cold water, making the witch-demon turn around to face her. She muttered an incantation that Maggie couldn’t hear, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed, then she gently placed the small icepack onto the reddened and blistered skin of Abigael’s burnt palms. She then brought Abigael’s hands up to her chest, enveloped them in her own, murmuring another incantation that Maggie couldn’t hear well. She stopped for a moment as if to take a breath, her eyes boring into Abigael with fierce disapproval, complete with a deep scowl on her face. At that moment, Maggie sympathised with Abigael more than she ever had before. She’d only ever been on the receiving end of Mel’s tier four scolding glare a handful of times, but that was more than enough for her to know it was a terrifying and scarring experience.

Abigael, for her part, looked both defiant and ashamed with her head set a little lower between her shoulders and her eyes staring into Mel’s.

“I told you,” Mel started again even as her hands started glowing with a strange, soft, bluish light, “not to mix valerian leaves with the bird of paradise! I told you! And what did you do? You went ahead and did exactly what I specifically told you not to do!”

“The blood was supposed to act as a stabilising element—”

“You can’t always count on using blood! Especially in a potion as dangerous as this one!”

Abigael scoffed. “Blood is a perfectly valid ingredient! And we didn’t even know this potion would be dangerous!”

“That doesn’t mean you can just throw it into any potion you want! And I told you that mixing crushed snake fangs with morning dew and valerian leaves would create a highly unstable substance!” Mel growled, glaring Abigael down. “But did you listen? No! Because you know better! There you go, my cauldron is ruined and we used the ingredients for nothing! And you got hurt! And they say I’m reckless… why would you even put your hands on that cauldron? You knew it was too hot, hell, it almost burnt through the metal!”

Abigael didn’t respond and after a short moment of silence, Mel went back to muttering the spell. It was quiet, no one moved. Maggie almost didn’t dare breathe for the fear of startling the two witches in the kitchen.

Finally, the light around Mel’s hands disappeared and she let Abigael go with a huff of ‘you’re welcome’.

Maggie stared in shock. While Abigael’s hands were still a soft shade of pink, the blisters and burns were gone without a trace. Since when did Mel know how to use healing magic?

It seemed that Maggie wasn’t the only one interested in Mel’s sudden proficiency in healing magic. Abigael studied her hands for a few moments, then her wide eyes turned to Mel. “That spell…”

“It’s from one of the books you gave me.”

“Those books contain some of the most advanced spells in the history of witchcraft. How did you…”

“You’re talking to the witch who used the Solar Charm after only two weeks of training. Not quite successfully, but I did conjure it, and I managed to take down the Harbinger of Hell with it, too.”

Abigael’s mouth fell open at that. The pure surprise on her face looked strangely out of place on her. Then a smirk overtook her lips and she regarded Mel with what looked like a mix of admiration and pride. “It seems you keep finding new ways to astound me.”

“You just keep underestimating me,” Mel shrugged, eyes stubbornly on Abigael’s face. She looked… Maggie couldn’t describe it, but there was something off about her sister in a way that seemed familiar, yet she couldn’t place it.

“I thought I learnt that lesson a long time ago.”

Mel took half a step closer and set her chin high in what Maggie recognised as Mel trying to look more threatening. “Maybe I should put another containment spell on you to refresh your memory.”

“That would just be cruel,” Abigael rose to Mel’s challenge, shifting closer and lowering her head so that there were only inches of space between them. “Especially since there are far more enjoyable spells you could put on me.”

Maggie couldn’t see their faces very well with how close they were, but she could feel the electric tension in the air. Something would happen, something was bound to happen between them and while Maggie didn’t trust Abigael completely, she couldn’t help the giddy feeling inside her chest.

The phone in Maggie’s hand vibrated and she let go of it with a surprised yelp. She quickly bent down to get it, and when she got back up, she was faced with a worried-looking Mel.

“Hey, you okay?” Mel asked, looking Maggie over like the overprotective big sister she was.

“Y-yeah! Yeah, I—I just got home and Jordan texted and—yeah, I’m fine!” Maggie finished with a smile.

Mel gave her a quizzical look. “Uuhh, right. How is Jordan?”

“He’s great!” Maggie beamed. Mel nodded at her and went back to the kitchen with a still-smiling Maggie in tow. “He promised to teach me new moves as soon as his exams are over.”

“And I’m sure you’re eager to learn them, Perky Peanut,” Abigael remarked with all the leisure and teasing in her voice.

“Can we please not talk about Jordan teaching ‘new moves’ to my baby sister?” Mel glared at Abigael. “I like him but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to kick his ass for dating her.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Maggie protested quickly.

“Yes, I’m sure Bouncy here can take care of herself,” Abigael shrugged, sparkling, hazel eyes never leaving Mel. “You will need to find another way to work out that frustration.”

“I don’t need to protect you, but I will because I’m your older sister and it’s my job,” Mel declared, then she turned and pointed a finger at Abigael. “And you are walking on a very thin ice after screwing with my potion, so I suggest you stay on your best behaviour if you don’t want to get hurt.”

Abigael only rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively, but she started cleaning the kitchen before Mel could say another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it from me! I hope you liked it! Don't be shy and let me know what you think in the comments or come talk to me here:  
> [Tumblr](https://justalittlewritingnerd.tumblr.com/)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/CathrineCBlack/)  
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> 
> I hate you all, hoomans!


	2. A little more conversation

Abigael being at the house became a normal occurrence. She didn’t spend every day with the Vera-Vaughn sisters, but she was there pretty much every weekend and sometimes on the weekdays, too. Out of all four occupants of the house, Macy took it worst, so it was no surprise that Abigael didn’t spend time with her without a buffer. But as time progressed, Abigael became less irritating, only slightly but it was still a noticeable change. Maggie spent a few days wondering why, until she stumbled onto something that she would later come to call strange occurrence number two.

She had just listened to Macy’s newest rant in the kitchen about how Abigael made her angry. Apparently, she’d drunk all of Macy’s almond milk and then proceeded to make fun of her and Harry’s romantic date plans. Harry, ever the gentleman, managed to pacify the situation after Abigael left the kitchen, rather in a hurry if Macy wasn’t exaggerating. And now, Maggie could go to her room and get some sleep.

Or, that was the plan until she caught voices coming from the attic. When she got closer, she could hear Mel’s voice, irritated almost bordering on angry, and as she crept to the ajar door, she recognised the second voice as Abigael’s.

“—aggravate my sister?” Mel asked. When Maggie finally crept to the door and peered inside, she could see her sister pacing around, her steps a dark, rhythmical crescendo on the hardwood floor.

“It was just a bit of harmless teasing,” Abigael shrugged, nonchalant as ever. “It’s too easy to ruffle her feathers. And since you weren’t there…”

“You don’t get to pin this on me!” Mel glared fiercely. She was using her tier two scolding glare, well on her way to tier three, Maggie noticed. It seemed Abigael could get under her skin more than most people. “You’re doing it on purpose!”

“Miss Mean and Green is too tightly wound,” Abigael responded too calmly for someone facing an angry Mel. “I’m just making sure her heart is in a good shape. We wouldn’t want to lose the Power of Three to a heart attack.”

Mel rolled her eyes so far back into her head that Maggie worried for a moment they might get stuck there.

“You know Macy barely tolerates you and you still have to go and mess with her and Harry. You know how she is about their relationship!”

“Please. The Boy Scout can barely look away from her, let alone think about another woman when she’s in the room. I’m just helping her realise that. She should be grateful if anything.”

Mel huffed. “Can’t you just leave them alone?”

“And miss the angry look on your sister’s face? Not a chance.”

“Then choose something else to pick on her for! If you make fun of her relationship with Harry one more time, she might actually try to vanquish you.”

Abigael's body language changed in a second. She straightened her back, head cocked to the side, one hip jutting out slightly. Even her voice dipped into that slow, low whisper-like drawl that she did. “And you don’t want that, do you?”

Mel seemed immune to her charms, however, the only tells that she was not entirely unaffected were the slight purse in her lips and the way her eyes skipped down, then a bit lower, then up again, clearly checking Abigael out without even realising it. Finally, after a few seconds, Mel let out a breath and let her hands fall to her sides. “I know you’re trying to be better and I know you don’t mean anything by teasing them, but Macy doesn’t understand that.”

Abigael’s shoulders sagged a little, as if she was tired or relieved, Maggie couldn’t tell which. “For her, I will always be the devil. Why not live up to that name? Especially if it gets a rise out of her.”

“Because that’s not what you are.”

“Don’t let sister dearest hear you say that.”

“What? No, let her hear me! You’re not the devil! You’re you, and you’re trying.”

Abigael didn’t respond. She just lowered her head and shifted in her spot a little.

“Hey. You’re trying. And you’re doing good,” Mel said, voice soft and earnest. She smiled, a small, supportive smile that she donned when she was proud of Maggie but didn’t want to tell her because she wanted Maggie to be proud of herself, first. Abigael reacted to that, her shoulders sagged even more, and she looked away, suddenly looking somewhat uncomfortable yet eager at the same time. “You’re doing so good, Abi. But it might be better if you stop picking fights with my sisters. Or at least stop teasing Macy and Harry.”

Abigael let out a sigh as if she was considering it. “How would I meet my daily quota on annoyance, then?”

“You can tease me extra for that.”

“I never would have thought you’d ask me to tease you,” Abigael said in that slow, low voice that she did.

Mel’s throat bobbed visibly; her eyes fell to Abigael’s body before they went to her face, then quickly to the side. “Stop that, you know what I meant.”

“Do I?”

Mel huffed again, then she turned around and spread her hands as if to point at the entire attic. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and help me sort this all out? Maggie tried to make a potion two days ago and she completely misplaced most of my ingredients.”

“I’m sure you’d be angrier if anyone else did that.”

“I’m not angry,” Mel said as she walked over to one of the shelves. Maggie could see some of the glass jars and bowls and other containers where Mel usually kept her ingredients and spell supplies on there. Mel started opening them, smelling them and even tasting some, then she put them either back or onto a small desk that stood to her side. “Just… mildly annoyed. She’s always done that. Taken my things without asking and never put them back, I mean. I was lucky if she put them on my bed and not just wherever in the house. But this is different than a stolen hoodie or a missing CD. One mistake could blow this whole house up, just because she put something in the wrong place.”

“Have you showed her where the ingredients belong?”

“Just put the things back where you took them from, how hard can that be?”

“Many ingredients look and smell similar. It’s not difficult to mix them up when you’re thinking about different things,” Abigael said softly. She walked over to where Mel was until she hovered just inches behind her back. Then she reached for one of the jars, her hand brushing Mel’s shoulder as she did. Maggie noticed with growing surprise and wonder how at ease Abigael was so close to Mel, and how calm Mel looked with Abigael so close. There had been times when they’d tear each other’s throats out but now they were just… standing there, so close together, as if they both found comfort in the proximity.

“I did show her. Five times. Macy only saw it twice and she remembers!” Mel huffed again, her shoulders sagging and her body leaning back just a little. “If Mags wasn’t constantly on her phone or dreaming up ways to save the world…”

Maggie frowned at that and looked down at her phone. She wasn’t on it constantly! She was just…busy thinking about things! When she lifted her eyes back to the scene in the attic, she found Abigael standing even closer to Mel, her hands holding gently on Mel’s upper arms and her head lowered a little. Maggie couldn’t help but feel like she was invading on a private moment.

“She does that because she can. Because she has you and Lab Queen to turn to. You and your sisters are all different, good at different things, and you complete each other. And there’s nothing wrong with that. If anything, it’s good.”

“When did you become a relationship counsellor?”

Abigael let out a chuckle. “I owe it to my mother if anything. She was like you in some ways. Very particular about where things should be, how they should be done. She would often… berate me for not doing things her way. It took me too long to realise that there is no one fixed way of doing things.”

“I’m sorry,” Mel sighed. “I know it’s difficult to talk about her.”

“Not really. She’s hurt me in many ways. I imagine I have hurt her just as much,” Abigael stopped herself. She was quiet for a moment, still, and so was Mel in her arms. Then, Abigael took a deep breath. “It’s not difficult to talk about her or what she’d taught me. Not to you.”

Maggie could hear the shift between them, could sense it in the air. The vulnerability, the trust, the tender care. It made her feel like she was intruding on them, like she was witnessing something she shouldn’t. In a way, she supposed it was true. Abigael had never been this vulnerable with anyone as far as Maggie knew, or this caring, or perceptive. And if she decided to show that side of herself to Mel, Maggie was definitely intruding.

As if a spell was suddenly broken, Abigael stepped back and cleared her throat. “You’re not storing them in alphabetical order.”

“No. With how distracted my sisters are, they could easily confuse the kanna plant with kava and that would not be pretty.”

“Depending on the potion, it might be hilarious.”

“Or deadly.”

Abigael hummed. She seemed to be looking over the ingredients, deep in thought. “You organised them by effect and grouped them by which ingredients can substitute each other. Clever.”

Mel shrugged somewhat sheepishly. “Yeah, well… I don’t have to worry they’ll make the house explode just because they’re too busy staring into their boyfriends’ eyes. What do you think? Would your mother approve?”

“Definitely not. It’s not the traditional way and she was keen on traditions. Except for the part where it’s not traditional for a witch to roll in the hay with a demon,” Abigael scoffed. She took one of the jars from the shelf and watched it for a moment, then she looked at Mel. “Would yours?”

“I think she would. She always said we had to work together, to not just overcome our differences but to welcome them, because our differences are our strengths. She would approve of me going out of my way just to make something easier on my sisters.”

“She sounds like a smart woman.”

“She was. She did have her flaws and things she shouldn’t have done, but she was… very smart. And she loved us. All of us. Sometimes it’s hard to remember.”

Abigael didn’t say anything to that. They both just worked together in silence, opening jars, labelling and re-labelling ingredients, and putting things on shelves. They worked like a well-oiled machine, with no need for verbal communication, like just their movements and glances were enough.

Shaking her head, Maggie went to her room. Abigael was acting strange, stranger than usual, and although she knew they had nothing to fear from Abigael, after all somewhere down the line she had become a very valuable and valued ally, even if she was still rather annoying. Something was going on and Maggie wanted to know what. As she was falling asleep, she decided to pay even closer attention to Abigael.


	3. Protect the protector

During the next few weeks, Maggie watched like a hawk whenever Abigael came over. She was her usual sarcastic, cynical self and during those weeks, Maggie couldn’t find one thing out of place in her behaviour. That was, until one night when strange occurrence number three came to pass.

They’d been having a bad week. Bad few weeks, actually. Demon attacks seemed never-ending and most were pretty difficult to handle. To top it off, the Power of Three seemed to be on a hunger strike and only worked in the direst of situations. Maggie thought it had something to do with Macy being mad at Mel because of how much time Abigael spent with them, but Macy denied it and Mel was stubbornly refusing to talk about a problem that she couldn’t see. Which then left them open to attack, even at their own home if they weren’t careful.

Mel seemed to be taking it the hardest. Her own powers were glitching a little and sometimes just burst out of her in a wave of cold air—once she even made Macy’s almond milk freeze on accident. Maggie tried to convince her to take a nap, draw a bath, read a book, do something to relax, but Mel refused, saying something about needing to figure it out. Maggie knew that in Mel’s language, that meant staying up until dawn and practising magic, then maybe getting an hour of sleep only to torture herself with more practice the next day. She was burning her candle at both ends, she was angry, tired, and irritated and she didn’t listen to either of her sisters or Harry. Not even Abigael could get through to her. Where they used to spend hours upon hours together, either talking, debating, brewing potions, or practising spells, now Mel refused to even look at her most times. Maggie would have thought that Abigael did something stupid that warranted the cold shoulder had it not been for the way she wandered the house like a cat in search for its absent owner, lost and brooding.

Somehow, they managed to convince Mel to stay home when the report of another demon attack came that day. She was weak from lack of sleep and food and they would only end up arguing anyway, which would be a bad idea during a rescue mission. They were only hunting a lesser demon, that much they knew, so the Power of Three was unnecessary, and with how much Mel resembled a mummy and zombie lovechild, Maggie could tell she needed the rest. Just the fact that she agreed to stay home said as much.

They dealt with the demon and helped the young witch under attack get home. Granted, it took them longer than it would have had Mel been there with them, but that was only because Mel charged head-first into things. It was just past midnight when Harry orbed them into the house.

As soon as they landed, Maggie noticed something yellowish-orange flicker in the corner of her eye. When she turned to face it, as fast as her tired, adrenaline-filled body allowed, she was met with the strangest image possible.

Abigael was sitting on the couch, upper body leaning forward threateningly, one hand up with flames dancing at the tips of her fingers, the other one curled protectively around her lap, expression determined and eyes hard, flickering in the orange glow of the fireball and the bluish glow of the TV. And in her lap lay a heap of blackness that glistened in the orange glow. It took Maggie a moment to realise that the black void was nothing other than Mel’s hair. Her head lay comfortably on Abigael’s thighs, facing the demoness’ belly, the rest of her body was curled up into a ball, covered with a blanket.

After eyeing them for a moment, Abigael closed her fist and snuffed out the flames.

Macy stepped forward, hands in fists and head cocked slightly to the side. “What are you doing here?”

Abigael hissed at her, eyes moving down to check on Mel. Maggie noticed in the dim light flickering from the TV how her features softened at just that one glance.

“What the—” Macy tried again, but Abigael cut her off.

“Not so loud! You can try and pick a fight with me after Mel’s in her bed.”

“Why isn’t she there now?” Maggie asked, more curious than anything else, although she already had an inkling as to what the response to her question might be.

“She fell asleep on me. I couldn’t move too much without waking her and I can’t phase-shift anyone but myself,” Abigael offered as an explanation. Her voice was patronising like it usually was, but it had an unusual softness to it. A softness that seemed familiar somehow. And it wasn’t just in her voice, either; her entire posture and expression softened and the crinkle between her eyebrows looked almost guilty. Like she wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“I can orb her up,” Harry offered helpfully. The way Abigael speared him with an icy glare and her hand moving to rest protectively over Mel’s side were clear signs that she did not want him to take Mel anywhere. But Harry, sweet, caring Harry, ignored or perhaps didn’t see the warning signs and Abigael had no choice but to allow him to take Mel into his arms. Maggie wondered if Abigael’s reaction would have been different if she and Macy weren’t there. And as she watched Abigael lay Mel’s head on Harry’s shoulder with tender care, she decided that yes, the reaction would have been different. She wouldn’t have allowed him to take Mel if Maggie and Macy weren’t there.

They watched in silence as Harry orbed away before Macy stepped forward again, shoulders square and head held high.

“Oh, don’t start,” Abigael rolled her eyes. “I was only here to help.”

“Did she call you?”

“She didn’t have to. Only a fool wouldn’t notice something is not right with her. You’d better work out your sisterhood issues, quickly, before she drives herself mad with overexertion.”

Macy scoffed. “What do you know about our sisterhood?”

“Enough to know it’s nowhere near all right. She was exhausted and you two don’t look all that well, either. Your sisterhood is the only thing currently standing between Godric and defenceless witches. You need to be strong until I take back my crown and give you time to breathe.”

“How’s that going, anyway?” Macy taunted.

It was Abigael’s turn to scoff. “I have spent months, years laying out the groundwork for taking the role of the Overlord, even when my father was still alive. Godric is using all that now. It will take more than holding hands and talking about feelings to prepare to overthrow him.”

“He seemed to overthrow you pretty quickly.”

“Enough!” Maggie stepped in. Had Mel been there, she wouldn’t have allowed the exchange to go for this long. Somehow, she always could settle things between Macy and Abigael, even if it usually was by glaring them down. “We need to get some sleep and figure things out in the morning. Abigael’s right, we have to get the Power of Three, full blast and reliable. Until then, we’re sitting ducks. And we need Mel for that.”

“Smart move, Perky Peanut.”

Macy huffed and rolled her eyes.

“C’mon, we’re going to sleep,” Maggie decided before her sister could say something else. Then she looked at Abigael. There was something strange about her, something… almost human, showing its face more and more these days. Especially when Mel was around, and there seemed to be some strange understanding between them. If nothing else, she could respect that. “The couch is free if you want it.”

Before anyone could say anything else, Maggie started dragging Macy towards the stairs, leaving Abigael alone in the faint glow of the TV.


	4. Lovers' quarrel

Strange occurrence number four was perhaps the most obvious and alarming of them all, and it was the one that caused Maggie to really reflect on Abigael’s behaviour and the strange relationship between the witch-demon and Mel.

It was morning and Maggie didn’t have classes that day, nor was it her turn to cook. She could enjoy a slow morning and dream of Harry’s amazing breakfast. Only, it wasn’t Harry’s turn to cook, either. It was Mel’s. Which meant toast and black coffee, or eggs of some sort. It was better than whatever Macy would manage not to burn and even better than Maggie’s lazy Lucky Charms, but still not as good as Harry’s rich and varied English breakfast.

Turning onto her side, Maggie sighed. Maybe she should go check on Mel, get her to talk. They still haven’t figured out why the Power of Three was glitching or why Mel’s powers were acting out. It didn’t help that any time Maggie tried to start that particular conversation, Macy would turn it into either throwing accusations at Abigael or interrogating Mel as to why Abigael seemed to always be in the house and always somewhere near Mel. Mel had taken a very unusual approach of just walking out of the room whenever the conversation started after her sixth attempt to get Macy to understand that Abigael was not devil incarnate, wouldn’t bother sabotaging the Power of Three because she had no reason to and was actually on their side, failed because Macy refused to listen and instead pulled the ‘she tried to kill me’ card almost every time. It’s gotten to the point where Mel and Macy couldn’t be in the same room together for more than five minutes without an argument breaking out and Maggie knew that this tension was more harmful to their sisterhood and the Power of Three than whatever had been going on before.

Maybe she should try talking to them alone first. She had tried talking to Macy but she had no more luck than Mel had. Clearly, just the thought of seeing Abigael was enough to make Macy angry enough to forget about her scientist passion for empirical evidence and observation and fall into a blind, frenzied mistrust. Maggie’s only tried talking to Mel once, but she only got anger and self-deprecation out of her mixed with confusion and skittishness that was so unlike Mel that it was almost painful to watch.

On the other hand, Mel tended to be more patient in the mornings and she usually had less of a temper after she’d just woken up, so if there was a good time to try and talk to her, it would be right about now. 

Then again, maybe she shouldn’t. Mel hated it when she pried. But Mel also usually didn’t talk about her feelings and thoughts until Maggie pried. Plus, it was her duty as the youngest to nag and bother.

Mind made, Maggie got out of her soft, warm bed and padded her way form her room and down the stairs. She didn’t even reach the last one when she heard it. Voices, loud and angry.

“…says powder sugar!” Mel’s voice sounded through the house, insisting and irritated.

“And I’m telling you,” came Abigael’s Sussex lilt, just as irritated, “that vanilla extract is better.”

“Harry’s always done it like this and it was always good!”

“I don’t care what Harold does or doesn’t do; my way is better!”

“Must you always do that?” Mel half asked – half yelled. Maggie could clearly see Mel’s scowl in her mind’s eye. She was about tier three, on her way to tier four, on her annoyance scale. Abigael could really get under her skin.

“Do what?”

“Act like you know better.”

“That’s because I do know better!”

Mel scoffed. Maggie could just imagine the eye-roll and crossing of her hands on her chest that probably accompanied the sound. “Right, you always know everything, don’t you?”

“No, not everything, but I do know a lot and I know that vanilla extract is the better choice in this recipe.”

“You don’t get to do that!” Mel growled out. “You don’t get to decide these things! That’s not how family works! You don’t get to scheme and boss people around! It’s not about who knows better or who is right! It’s about what’s good for all of us! It’s about not using a damned vanilla extract just because someone asked you not to!”

“If I know it’s better, of course, I’m going to use it,” Abigael protested.

“Better for who? What’s better for you may be worse for the rest of the family, you have to think about that, too! But you’re too selfish and self-absorbed to see that!”

There was a gasp. Maggie could tell it was Abigael’s and full of pain and wounded pride. Then Abigael seethed: “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to decide these things by myself if you were willing to listen!”

“Maybe if you weren’t a selfish demon and looked around you, you’d see that I do listen! I’m always here for you! And you ignore me!”

“I don’t—”

“You always do what you want and don’t care for what consequences it has on people around you! It doesn’t even occur to you that other people might feel differently than you do about your decisions and actions! You act like a demon!”

“Perhaps because that is what I am and you refuse to acknowledge that.”

“Hmph! Fine! Use your stupid vanilla extract! See if I care!”

Before Abigael had the chance to say something more, Mel stormed out of the kitchen, right past Maggie and up the stairs. She looked beyond furious even in her grey, checkered pyjamas with her hair tousled from sleep.

For a moment, it was quiet. Almost terrifyingly so. Then, Maggie could hear quiet but energetic shuffling form the kitchen. It seemed that Abigael for once in her life decided to do as told. The only problem was, this was exactly the time not to. Mel would stew in her anger for days if she didn’t work it out now and something in her told Maggie that this needed to be worked out between Mel and Abigael. She didn’t understand what exactly was going on between them and she didn’t want to, but it was clearly important to Mel and that meant it was important to Maggie, too.

With a deep breath to steel herself, Maggie slowly walked into the kitchen. She found Abigael standing at the counter, clad in a simple blouse and jeans, frowning at the pineapple she was now slicing as if it had just gravely insulted her. Maggie noticed the tension in her posture, the spasmodic grip she had on the knife. The argument got to her, as well.

“Hey,” Maggie greeted quietly, almost meekly. She wasn’t afraid of Abigael but she also didn’t want any fireballs to be let loose. Abigael just looked at her and nodded before going back to the pineapple. “Sooo… I’m guessing that wasn’t just about some vanilla extract.”

Abigael breathed out, her eyebrows quirked a little into an annoyed expression. “No, I suppose it was not.”

“She’s had a tough week.”

“And that’s an excuse for her to take it out on me?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Maggie backtracked, shaking her head a little. “Just… give her the benefit of the doubt, okay? I don’t think she was really mad at you.”

“Just my demon side,” Abigael’s voice cracked as she said that and Maggie’s heart squeezed in sympathy. She’d never seen Abigael like this.

“That’s not true. She sees how much you’re trying. She fights for you just as hard as you do.”

Abigael froze mid-cut, eyes cast downwards and knuckled completely white from the force of her grip.

“You should go talk to her,” Maggie said quietly.

“I don’t fancy being turned into a popsicle.”

“When I was still doing therapy,” Maggie offered, working thought her squeezing throat. She wasn’t ashamed of needing therapy and battling her anxiety, but it was a weakness and those shouldn’t be revealed to enemies. Although she knew Abigael was not an enemy, she still had a hard time accepting her. “My doctor told me during one of my sessions that it was a bad thing to go to bed angry.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know your sister and I are not going to bed.”

“No, that’s not… It means that feelings can intensify with time. If we let them stew and fester, they’ll become a part of us and a part of our relationships. Mel is like that; if she’s left alone with her anger, she internalises it so much it becomes a part of her. It happened after our mom passed and it almost broke us. She has a hard time working through her frustrations and she takes them out on people. That doesn’t mean she’s angry at you. Just go talk to her. I promise she won’t turn you into a popsicle.”

Abigael’s eyes flickered down to the pineapple, then to a bowl on the counter.

“Harry and Macy will be out for a while yet, I think. Breakfast can wait,” Maggie assured.

With a sigh, Abigael let go of the knife and walked away. Just before she left the kitchen, she turned to look at Maggie, hazel eyes soft and vulnerable like Maggie’s only ever seen them when Mel was around. “Thank you, Maggie.”

Even after she left, Maggie still couldn’t believe Abigael called her by her name instead of some stupid nickname. Something really strange was going on with her.


	5. Something normal

It’s been a few days since the last strange occurrence and things seemed to be calming down. They didn’t argue as much, Abigael seemed to not pick quite as many fights, and while things between Macy and Mel were still tense and they still argued, Mel’s powers stopped acting out. She even seemed less angry and less irritable. Whatever Abigael had told her, it helped her work through her issues. They still had troubles with the Power of Three, but Maggie suspected, and Harry agreed with that theory, that it wasn’t going to change until the three of them sat down and worked out their differences. Maggie only hoped that with Mel in such a good mood, that the conversation would come sooner rather than later.

Why was Mel in such a good mood, anyway? That rarely happened, especially if there were problems with the sisterhood. Things have been relatively quiet on the demon front, so maybe that could be it? Then again, Mel liked having things to do and demons to vanquish.

Maggie sighed. She couldn’t for the life of her figure this out, and she’s been raking her brain for days. And it wasn’t just Mel who acted weird, Abigael seemed more agreeable, too. She hadn’t provoked a fight or teased anyone too much in days and she actually turned out to be quite helpful with her knowledge of magic. She still liked to run her mouth about how it was a pleasure to teach the Charmed Ones about magic, but she helped, explained and was a good teacher. Maggie could kind of understand why Mel liked working with her; they were a force to be reckoned with together and the way they danced around the making potions together and understood each other without even having to say a word was, for the lack of a better word, magical.

She almost laughed as she made her way up the stairs and to the front porch. It was crazy how well they worked together. Kind of like Harry and Macy, but without the googly eyes. It was even crazier that Abigael behaved herself most of the time even when she wasn’t with Mel. And the craziest thing was that she just…fit with them, strangely enough. Even though Macy still disliked her, strongly so, Abigael was like the annoying family friend or the cat only one person wanted and now the whole family had to deal with. At least her cooking was amazing. When she decided to help them make something instead of bossing them around and poking fun at them, that was.

Cooking… Good thing was that today wasn’t Maggie’s turn to cook or do the dishes. The school was okay, if a bit boring, and training with Jordan was fun, but combined into one day, they meant she was dead-tired. And she still had to take a crack at that personality disorder paper that was due in a week. What was her assigned topic again? Bipolar disorder? Narcissism? Or maybe it was—

Maggie stopped in her tracks as soon as she realised what was in front of her. She just rounded the corner to the kitchen, fully expecting to find Harry elbow-deep in dough or something else food-related and Macy somewhere in the room, talking his ears off about science. What she found instead made her breath catch.

Mel was leaning against the kitchen counter with one hand on Abigael’s jaw, the other one buried in her dark-brown hair, their lips pressed together in a slow, soft kiss. It looked like they didn’t even know where they were, like they were lost in each other, and yet, it wasn’t frenzied or lust-filled or uncertain like most first kisses tended to be. They’ve done this before, Maggie realised. Enough to get over the initial nervousness, enough to develop this easy familiarity. It struck Maggie as strange how gentle Abigael was, one hand cradling the back of Mel’s neck, the other on her hip, fingers hooked into the beltloop of Mel’s jeans. There was no rush in her motions, no carnal desire. Considering how sexual and unafraid of showing her passions Abigael was, Maggie would have expected her kisses to always hold that sexual spark, that promise, that intention. But this looked different. Like they just wanted to be close, to be alone for a while, to enjoy intimacy without any pressure, any grand destination to get to. There was no rush, no motive other than being together in that particular moment.

Maggie had to bite her inner cheek to keep herself from cooing at how sweet and soft they looked. Then she grinned. She’ll make sure to pick Mel’s brain about this, later, that was bound to be fun.

The sound of a door closing and footsteps on the carpeted floor came from upstairs, making Maggie look to the stairs on reflex. When she looked back to the kitchen, she found Mel and Abigael already apart. She could see Mel’s face, with a huge, happy smile on her lips and wide eyes looking around and jumping to Abigael every few seconds. She looked like a high schooler who just barely managed not to get caught making out in an empty classroom.

Abigael looked around, too quickly for Maggie to notice anything about her face but the happy sparks in her eyes, and she leaned in to steal one more, lingering kiss. The footsteps sounded on the stairs now.

They jumped apart. Abigael instantly went to busy herself with something on the stove while Mel just stood rooted to her spot like she was breathless. And maybe she was.

Giving into the last shreds of rationality not yet swallowed by surprise and happiness for her sister, Maggie took a few steps back so that neither Mel nor Abigael would see her. And just in time, too. Macy walked down the stairs and straight to her.

“Hey, Mags, what’s up?”

“Nothing!” Maggie smiled a bit too widely. “Nothing weird or strange happening at all.”

Macy gave her a confused frown. “Okay.”

“Uhm,” Maggie cleared her throat to keep Macy in the conversation and away from the kitchen for a few moments longer to give Mel time to compose herself, but she had no luck. Macy just strolled right in. Based on the lack of shocked screaming, yelling or outright magic battle, Macy found nothing compromising in the kitchen.

Well, nothing compromising might not be the best way to describe it, Maggie realised when she walked into the kitchen after her sister. Mel and Abigael were a few feet apart, acting like they were occupied with making dinner, but they kept stealing glances at each other like schoolgirls with a crush, Mel with the most guilty-but-excited smile and wide eyes, Abigael with her typical, pleased smirk. But it seemed they thought they were being subtle enough and Macy looked like she didn’t notice.

“What is she doing here again?” Macy asked, pointing at Abigael. 

“Beer-battered chicken with potatoes and apple crumble,” Abigael replied, glaring at Macy from her spot at the stove. “You’re welcome.”

“Why are you doing this?” Macy questioned. Maggie could see Mel tense out of the corner of her eye, like she wanted to step in and argue but didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

Scoffing, Abigael stepped back from the stove. “Don’t worry, I won’t spoil your precious witchy little family. I know when I’m not wanted. Or needed.”

Maggie could see the resolution on Abigael’s face and the sad longing in her eyes, just as clear as the panicked hope and dread in Mel’s. Before she knew what she was doing, Maggie spoke up. “Wait! I mean, it would be a shame if you didn’t get to eat the food you cooked, right?”

“Mags,” Macy started protesting, but Maggie was already grabbing her hand.

“Mel, can you hand me the plates? We’ll set the table.”

“Maggie,” Macy tried again, but Maggie cut her off.

“No! This hostility stops! She’s helping us and she clearly has no grand evil plot up her sleeve. Cut her some slack, Mace. You never know, she might even care for us.” As she said it, Maggie looked at Abigael for a short second. Her eyes were wide with realisation, but a small, unsure smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Macy didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She was outnumbered with both Maggie and Mel standing up for Abigael. And Maggie hoped that she’d finally come to accept that Abigael wasn’t all that bad, sooner rather than later. They needed the Power of Three to stop glitching, and for that to happen, they needed to accept that Abigael was staying with them for a while because it was important for Mel that she did, and Mel was important for the Power of Three to work.

If Mel’s happy smile was anything to go by, Abigael would stick around for a very, very long while.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's it from me! I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think in the comments or come talk to me here:  
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